Lume didn't waste any time. He crossed to the wizardand pushed him to the floor, taking the wand from his belt with one hand andplacing the edge of his dagger to Shadow's throat with the other.
"Well allow me to introduce myself. My name isLume, and I work for Olostin."
"Yes-" Shadow coughed hard-"Yes, Irecognize the name. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine." Heturned to Cy. "Is this the wand you spoke of," he asked, holding upthe crystal-tipped rod.
"It appears to be, yes."
The captain took a step back and turned again to thearchwizard.
No longer under the watchful eyes of a band of assassins,Cy lunged at Lume with his dagger.
"Die, you pig!"
The captain sidestepped the blow, but hestumble-stepped to one side.
Cy swung again at the older man's back. The enchantedblade sliced through Lume's leather armor, opening a long, bloody gash in thecaptain's side.
"You stupid fool," Lume hissed.
Pulling his saber is a flash, the captain made twoquick slashing attacks.
Cy parried the first blow, but the second landed justbelow his wrist, knocking his dagger from his hand. Lume swung again, and Cystruggled backward, avoiding the blade but falling back over the bed. Cy landedon the floor against Shadow, cradling his wrist where Lume had cut him.
The captain leveled the wand at the two men on thefloor.
The archwizard struggled to breathe, but he laughedanyway.
"You can't use that," he said. "Youdon't know the command word."
"You're wrong, wizard, and now I'm going todestroy you with your own toy." Lume smiled down at Shadow. "Ironicthat you could spend so much of your life perfecting a tool such asthis-" he shook the wand-"only to be killed by it in the end."
"You don't know what sort of forces you'remessing with." He coughed, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth.
"Neither did you." Lume straightened his armand spoke the word Cy had repeated for him back at camp. "Shadominiaropalazitsi."
Once again a column of rushing dark gray plasma flowedout of the wand. It headed straight for the prone archwizard, coalescing intohumanlike forms along the way. As it jetted forward, the stream of shadowssplit into a curling mass. Shadow raised his hand instinctively to protect hisface, but this time, the shadows broke into individual swirls, and twisted,wavering forms spread out all over the room. They filled every corner and placeof darkness.
Now spread out, the shadows began to collect again,forming a cyclone around Captain Lume.
Lume screamed, "What's happening? What's goingon?"
"Don't you see, you fool?" explained thearchwizard. "Don't you recognize any of those shadows?"
"No, no, I don't." He swung his saber inwide, swooping arcs. "Stay away from me," he screamed. "Stayaway, you hear?"
Shadow lifted himself off the floor.
"Is that any way to treat your previousassassins?" asked the archwizard.
Lume's face dropped, and his swinging momentarilyslowed.
"That's right." Shadow smiled. "Ipunished your assassins by turning them into shadows and trapping them in thatwand, and you just released them to seek vengeance on you for earning them aneternity of suffering."
The shadows wasted no time, diving in to touch thestunned captain while he listened to the archwizard.
Lume's knees went weak, and he began his franticswinging again.
"But you were the one who sent them to theirdeaths," he screamed.
"They don't blame me for defending myself fromassassination. They blame you for sending them to kill an archwizard. Youshould learn to not mess with forces beyond your control."
Lume was getting tired, and his defense was weakening.His wild arcs with his saber were slowing, and the shadows were touching himrepeatedly. He dropped to the ground, lifting his head to speak again toShadow.
"Those are fine words, coming from the likes ofyou."
Lume collapsed, his head hitting the wooden planks ofthe floor with a decided thud.
The shadows spun around in a pack over the limp bodyon the floor. A dark shape formed around the captain's corpse, then itcoalesced into a humanlike shadow and lifted into the air, joining the swirlingmass above. As a group, they dived toward the wand still gripped in Lume's deadhand. The dark gray stream narrowed as itapproached the crystal, and as quickly asthey had come forth, the shadows disappeared.
The archwizard reached into the sleeve of his robesand pulled forth a large purple bottle. Uncorking the vial, he swiftly drankdown the contents. A strange white glow surrounded his skin, and the bleedingstopped. He looked much better, though not quite whole and hearty.
He looked at Cy, who was still on the floor cradlinghis bleeding wrist, and said, "As I said before, you are entirely tooyoung to be an assassin. I suggest you find another line of work."
With that, he turned around and went back through theillusionary wall.
Cy looked down at the dead body of Captain Lume andnodded, then he turned around and headed back up the stairs, dodging a prettyblonde golem on his way out.
AND THE DARK TIDE RISES
Keith Francis Strohm
7 Eleint, the Year of the Gauntlet
The last rays of the setting sun spun out over thewaters of the Inner Sea, transforming its rippled surface into shimmering gold.Umberlee's Fire, the sailors called it, and considered it a good omen, a signthat the Sea Queen had blessed their work. Morgan Kevlynson stood on the bow ofthe sea-worn fishing dory that had served his family for years and ignored thespectacular display. Absently, he pushed a strand of coal-black hair from hisface, blown there by the swirling, salt-flecked fingers of the wind, and lethis thoughts wander beneath the fiery skin of the sea.
Darkness surrounding, like a cocoon, the wild impulsesof the deep; blue-green presences where sunlight caresses sea-halls.
There were mysteries here. He knew that as surely ashe knew his own name. The sea held an ancient wisdom-wild and untamed; carried dark promisesupon its broad back. And sometimes, when he sailed the waters in silence, theycalled to him.
Today was such a time.
Morgan closed his eyes, absorbed in the dance of windand wave and foam. He felt a familiar emptying, as if some inner tide receded; hisheartbeat pulsed to the rhythm of the sea, slow and insistent, like thewhitecaps that struck the side of the dory, until everything became thatrhythm-heart, boat, sky-the world defined in a single liquid moment.
That's when he saw her: eyes the color of rich kohl,skin as green-tinted as the finest chrysoberyl, and blue-green hair that flowedmore freely than water itself. Yet, there was a sadness, a vulnerability aboutthis creature that set an ache upon him more fierce than any he had ever felt.He was about to ask what he could do to set a smile back upon her face when sheopened her mouth and-
"Tchh, laddie!Lay off yer sea-dreamin' and give us a hand." The voice was deep,resonant, and rough as coral, worn smooth only by the companionable lilt of thefishermen of the Alamber coastline.
Morgan opened his eyes and spun quickly to face thesound, only just catching himself as his sudden movement set the dory rocking.Angus, his grandfather, sat athwart the starboard gunwale stowing line with theease of long practice. The old man's sun-burnished skin covered his face andhands like cracked leather. A thick shock of silver hair crowned the ancientfisherman's bowed head, and his rough woolen clothes were worn thin and dustedwith dried salt. Despite the weathering of years, Angus showed no signs ofslowing down. His wits and his grasp remained firm, as was the way of those whospent their entire lives fishing the rough shores and islands of Alamber.